


Royal AU (Mathan)

by escsorrel



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: Eurovision Song Contest 2017, M/M, royal au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escsorrel/pseuds/escsorrel
Summary: A side-story to a wider Royal AU created by the tumblr Eurovision fandom.





	Royal AU (Mathan)

Manel leaned his head against the window. It was raining outside, the rain drops hitting against the side of the quickly moving train, shimmering in the last light of the day. He was somewhere in Germany, near the border with Austria, running away from the chaos of the Iberian peninsula.

He was nothing but a simple citizen, caught in the tides of the changes of the political scene. With Catalonia losing its independence, a new kingdom on the rise in Lisbon, Spain going through a revolution and a civil war… He didn’t want to have any part of this. He wanted things to be the way they were before it all came to a crash. But there was nowhere to return, so he had to run.

And so he did. Left his house early morning with a suitcase in one hand, guitar in the other, his last savings in his wallet and a note on his door for the landlord. He had a set destination - an address in Vienna.

He sighed, his breath staining the train window, as he was engulfed by memories of a better time.

Spring. Late May. Streets of Madrid. Late evening. The air was still hot and the last rays of the sun were hiding behind the tall, old brick buildings. Chatter filled main pedestrian street of the city. Tourists and locals, old and young, mixed into one big mass.

Manel was leaning against the wall of a clothing store, guitar in hand and a hat on the ground, singing a song about meeting someone he’d like. The usual cliche. A few euros were laying in his hat and from time to time someone stopped to drop a coin. Manel never forgot to smile at them and nod, hoping, that they’ll remember him and come back again.

He finished the song and looked around. Suddenly, someone near him began cheering. He looked around, trying to locate the source of the sound. It wasn’t any of the old ladies in the nearby cafes, not the guys sat around a motorcycle, not the children in the playground a few buildings further… No, it was a single man with quite a distinct moustache and a short hairdo. If his moustache was any longer, he could be a french musketeer. You know, d’Artagnan and the Three Musketeers type of deal.

“Lovely!”He exclaimed, smiling brightly. Then he pulled out a 10 euro note, raised it up and cocked his head. “Can you do a request?”

“Uh,”Manel hesitated. “Well, if I can find the chords…” He looked at the money. He was running short on drinking money, and he had been meaning to go out with his friends for weeks now, but he had to keep making excuses just because his account was emptier than British souls after Brexit.

“Sure. Why not?” He pulled out his phone to google the chords.

The other man tapped his finger on his chin and hummed to himself. “How about… Happy Accidents by Saint Motel?”

“That’s…actually in my repertoire.”

“Damn, you got good taste.”They both drawled at the same time, and laughed at themselves.

Those ten euros were pretty much his. He smiled to himself, before strumming the guitar and beginning to sing.

 

 

“Ever think what if we never met?

You love me, but you don’t know it yet

Everything is just an accident

A happy accident.”

Indeed, it was a happy accident. The spaniard reached out for the glass of vodka and downed it in one move. A stream trickled down his chin as he scrunched up his face in disgust. How did Russians drink this shit? Wasn’t their blood made of it? He would have given anything for a good sangria with a juicy grapefruit.. He gazed out of the window and watched the scenery as it moved past him, contemplating the encounter that would inevitably happen to him. He couldn’t help but smile.

Meanwhile, Archduke Nathanaele Koll was pacing the halls, waiting for his secret love to arrive. He had prepared everything; food, a room, water, everything he hoped would make Manel comfortable in an unfamiliar place. He hadn’t slept all night, just to get everything ready. He paused for a moment and took a breath, he shouldn’t be getting so anxious. This was his secret apartment, a home away from home, and nobody would find out that he was housing someone. Even more, that he was housing a man, an unmarried man at that. Everyone was expecting him to get married with some duchess from Hungary. The paps would go crazy, even crazier than they did when he flirted with a big ole pair of nuts in public, because apparently he can’t do one thing on a fun night out without there being at least 10 news articles. He secretly hated the fact that his life was constantly in the headlines and people followed his every move, desperate to know every detail of his relationships; he prayed that he could at least keep this one special thing private. It would just be him and Manel, and nobody else mattered.

He grabbed the backside of a chair and looked out the window at the terrace and let memories engulf him.

“Hey now,” Nathan laughed, “Why don’t you tell me your name before we go in? Just so I know to tell your name to the ambulance, just in case we get too drunk.” he joked.

“Manel. Manel Navarro. And you really think I’m a lightweight?“

“You look like it.”

“Well, mister…”

“Nathan.”

“Well, Nathan, you don’t look like a tough guy either. You look like a twink.”

“I’m a twunk, thank you very much.”

“A twunk?”

“Look it up when you’re alone.”

He had taken the busker out for drinks, looking for a fun night out. He was on his vacation trip, away from dukely duties for a week, and with his fake moustache on, nobody would recognize him. Hopefully. He wanted to go to the closest karaoke bar, get absolutely blasted, lose his voice while singing along to pop music and maybe snag a guy or two. And Manel was his first hit of the week.

They ordered a couple drinks and sat at a corner table, close to the stage. Some spanish girl was singing some spanish song, and from Manel’s face Nathan could see, that his date wasn’t too impressed. Manel noticed Nathan’s staring.

“She’s butchering the pronounciation. That’s a catalonian song.” He proceeded to go on about pronounciation for a good five minutes. Surprsingly, Nathan found himself to be quite interested in what he had to say.

“Huh, do you do spanish in college?”

“No, I’m just catalonian. And you know how we want to be independent and whatnot. soon, we will get our independence and then…then the world will truly know us. “

“Wow.” Nathan sigheed. Politics on the first date? On his vacation? It was more likely than he thought.

“Anyways, here is to our encounter.”Nathan said and raised a glass to him, nodding. Manel did the same.

 

A few drinks later Nathan got up and got on stage. He picked out a random pop song and went for it.

 

“I need you darling

Come on set the tone

If you feel you’re falling

Won’t you let me know, oh

Oh ooh

If you love me come on get involved.”

 

At one point, he winked at Manel and motioned him to get on stage. Manel laughed and shaked his head in response, to which Nathan pouted, but kept on singing.

 

And that’s how they spent the evening. Singing, dancing, drinking. All in a late May evening in Madrid.

The train stopped. Manel got up from his seat, grabbed his bags and stepped out in the cold Viennese morning. There was dew on the grass in the park next to the station, and birds were chirping. Yet the city was still asleep. He walked towards the first taxi he could see, gave the driver a piece of paper with an address and sat in the passenger seat.

Nathan. Nathan was just mere minutes away. Maybe he would still be asleep, since it was early morning on a Sunday. He hoped there would be a key under the doormat or something, so he could just walk inside and maybe greet Nathan with some breakfast. Though, his stomach felt kind of queasy after that dodgy breakfast he had eaten about half an hour ago. Train food. Not recommended. Manel sighed, and closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had seen Nathan asleep.

Sweaty and tired, he laid on his back, comforter thrown on his chest. What a night. What. A. Night. He certainly hadn’t had so much fun in a while.

He turned on his side, just to see Nathan fast asleep. He had seen this face laughing, smiling, frowning, and a thousand other expressions in the last hours, but now it was calm and peaceful. Dreamy, even. Manel couldn’t help but to smile, and a horde of butterflies appeared in his stomach. Maybe he should get his number? He wondered, for how long the austrian would stay in Spain. Maybe he lived here? That would be amazing. But… it was only a small hope that he had.

Suddenly, Nathan moved in his sleep. He turned to face Manel and slowly opened his eyes. They were heavy, and he could barely keep them open.

“Oh, it’s you. “

“Already forgot I’m here?”

“No, I was concerned that it had all been a dream. “

“Pretty sure I’m real.”

Nathan reached out his arm and put it on Manel’s bare chest, pulling at his side a bit, motioning for him to get closer. Manel obeyed and soon they were both asleep in eachother’s arms. Before passing out, Manel could have sworn he had heard Nathan sigh out the words: “I hope I’ll see you again.”

He smiled. He hoped so, too.

Manel stepped out of the taxi. He was standing in front of a rich-end apartment building. Did Nathan really live here? Or would he end up living in a tiny apartment in the basement that was only rented out to him because of a father’s cousin working there? He hoped he could stay at Nathan’s place, because this was better than anything his busker salary could ever get him.

There was a list of residents next to a mic by the front door. At the very top of the list - Nathan Trent. Manel coughed and pressed the button. The device emitted beeping noises and soon the front door opened. Manel made his way over to the elevator and pressed the button that lead to the highest floor. His heart started beating faster and faster. Nathan was there. Just a couple steps away.


End file.
